After sleeping an hour or two, Philip turned on his other side, and the snake had to move out of the way in a hurry for fear of being squeezed to death.  There was a noise as of something rustling in the straw, and after listening awhile, Philip said:  “I suppose it’s a mouse,” and soon fell fast asleep again, because he was not afraid of mice even when they ran across his nose.

In the morning he took his blankets out again, and hung them on the fence, shook up his mattress and pillow, and then spread the sheets over them, tucking them in all round, and then he got ready his breakfast.

The whole of that day was spent by the snake in trying to find a way out.  The sheets being tucked in he was still in the dark, and he kept going round and round, feeling for the hole with his nose until he went completely out of his mind, just as a man does when he is lost in the bush.  So the day wore on, night and bedtime came again, and Philip lay down to rest once more right over the imprisoned snake.  Then that snake went raving mad, lost all control of himself, and rolled about recklessly.  Philip sat up in bed, and a cold sweat began to trickle down his face, and his hair stood on end.  He whispered to himself as if afraid the snake might hear him.  “The Lord preserve us, that’s no mouse; it’s a snake right under me.  What shall I do?”

The first thing to do was to strike a light; the matches and candle were on a box at his bedside, and he slowly put out his hand to reach them, expecting every moment to feel the fangs in his wrist.  But he found the match-box, struck a light, carefully examined the floor as far as he could see it, jumped out of bed at one bound, and took refuge in the other room.  There he looked in every corner, and along every rafter for the other snake, for he knew that at this season snakes are often found in pairs, but he could not see the mate of the one he had left in bed.

There was no sleep for Philip that night, and, by the light of the candle, he sat waiting for the coming day, and planning dire vengeance.  At sunrise he examined closely every hole, and crevice, and corner, and crack in both rooms, floor and floor, slabs, rafters, and shingles.  He said, at last:  “I think there is only one snake, and he is in the bed.”

Then he went outside, and cut a stick about five feet long, one end of which he pointed with his knife.  Returning to the bedroom, he lifted up with the point of his stick the sheets, blankets, and pillows, took them outside, and hung them on the fence.  Next he turned over the mattress slowly, but there was nothing to be seen under it.  He poked the mattress with the blunt end of his stick here and there, and he soon saw that something was moving inside.  “Ah!” he said, “there you are, my friend.”  The thought of having slept two nights on a live snake made him shudder a little, but he was bent on vengeance.  He took hold of one end of the mattress with one hand, and holding